Project: Love
by Nicholas Ruien
Summary: [Ratings May Change based on Feedback] - Tom Riddle may have been destined to die alone as Lord Voldemort. But what happens when higher powers decided to mess with fate and create a new timeline. Let it be said, Love isn't as good as it is evil! (Lack of a good description isn't intentional) (Slash, Dark Themes, all sorts of tags that I forgot to add [SORRY!])


A/N: Words have no meaning here, all that matters is the story. To those returning, welcome back and to all the newcomers, I hope you enjoy. Without further adieu, lets get into a new world!

Italic= Letter

Bold = Other beings interactions

Chapter 1: Formulating the Emotions

When one is broken far beyond repair, how do you go aboht fixing them? Do they still feel beyond the thick wall of self-pity, anger and discontent of their life? Is it even within the their capacity to love again against all odds? To some, it would be impossible. But then again, love has always been a huge spit in the face of impossibility.

[March 30, 1926]

A lone mother hastily walked upon the dreary path heading towards a large dilapidated building. Hanging upon the entryway read a plaque: Wool's Orphanage. In her hands was a small bundled basket, buried beneath a mass of blankets, a singular folded note and a lone snake toy. The night was as silent as the innocent child, sleeping amidst the blankets, undisturbed by his mothers doings. The mother? Concealed by a scruff of rags to hide her vistage as she wasted no time in placing the child upon the doorstep and left with only a single pair of knocks.

Gone was the mother, the only other to source of information for this young child who perplexed the house maidens. Abandoned at a young age and without another adult to watch over him it seemed by the note which read:

To whom It May Concern

 _Insane I may seem but dangerous I am not. I am not insane enough to see the hardships this child would go through. Born out of wedlock to a father who would never accept him and a mother who wouldn't have the capacity go love him, there would be misery and self destruction for this boy. I ask whoever finds him to raise him like their own child for he is far greater than anything I could've created alone. His name is Thomas Marvelo Riddle, 5 months of age and now orphaned. Do what I couldn't as he is the last of my line._

A curious note indeed and a heavy request along with it. But, their orphanage was packed so without much left, they handed the child over to the oldest of the kids with a lightly taken promise to watch over him.

So began the tale of Tom Riddle.

[10 Years Later]

"Freaks like you dont deserve pets!" Yelled a nameless face as young Riddle stared at the corpse of his only friend. A young Garden Snake who kept him company for the better half of the last winter.

Within the 3 months they had together, the two had bonded and confided in each other. Now, one might ask how could a snake and human become so close with such a language barrier? It seemed that young Tom had the ability to talk to snakes, something of which he held possessively like a dying man to his life. With said barrier gone, the young snake charmer felt friendship for the first time in his life.

Now, the first one to ever earn his title of friend was gone. Away from this cruel world without even taking a glance back. Not that he would've had a chance with his head crushed under the foot of nameless bully number 1. For the first time, Tom felt true hatred. Hatred for humanity and the desire to be something more than these barbarians.

He had gotten his revenge that night, on an innocent bunny sadly, but an eye for an eye they always said. They all knew it was him but without evidence it was just another unsolved mystery. This kept them away from him which suited him just fine. With isolation came plotting and oh so bittersweet vengence.

(Elsewhere)

" **My Lady, Every timeline ends the same. Riddle dies unloved and forgotten as Lord Voldemort." Stated a singular male voice with such lightness, one could say he was amused by such dire judgement.**

 **"Then we will make a new one, it is within our realm of power. Fate be damned, I always loved getting a hand over my little cousin." replied a female voice with a mirrored airness, like a sigh would escape any minute.**

 **The same male voice responded with a statement of finality to her order as it grew faded in the wind, conflicting with the authenticity of his presence. "It shall be done."**

[With Riddle, 1 year later September 8th 1936]

To be feared was such exhilarating power. Those kids at the orphanage took his name with a shuddered breath, if they even dared speak it out loud. As Tom grew drunk on that power, he few high on the podium. But, like Icarus, the fall was mighty long and while not fatal gave a rude awakening.

"So, a little snake wandered off to far from his den. I dont know bout you boys but I think lions eat snakes huh?"

Red Ties? Check

Arrogant and Brash? Check

Walked around in a pride? Three for Three.

Definitely Gryffindors.

[Later on]

Now sporting newly shining bruises and almost an hour of de-jynxing by the school nurse, A loud old lady who seemed to do more nitpicking than healing. Tom found sitting in a small alcove hidden in the depths of the dungeon. He wasn't the alpha male anymore. That revelation bit him in the arse, if the bruising across his body wasnt much to go by. All that work flushed down the drain and now he had a main antagonist.

Magic.

The very thing that made him unique, twisted and fashioned against him by mere weaklings who outnumbered him 4 to 1. Not only did this realisation bruised his we flaunted ego, it deflaged every notion of trust he could gather in people. Tom Riddle was effectively broken, a shell of what a child should resemble. Grasping his wand, The Yew wood gleaming with traces of his own power, a wave of disgust washed over him.

weak

He was bested by students

weak

students who only bested him because they knew more magic

weak

students who had no place being on the top of the food chain

weak weak.

students who had no place taking his throne

WEAK

students who had no right, will or power to be anything more than subjugated at his feet.

WEAK WEAK WEAK WEAK

students who-

students who will one day bow down to him. Who will fear and remember him long after- no

people who would remember and fear him until the end of days, until ragnarok. Death would even bow to him.

and on this day, Tom Riddle died and Lord Voldemort was born.

or was he?

(Later that night)

'Make a new one...Make a new one...Make a new one'

"Make a new one she says? Now how does one go about that." said a voice, the same voice you encountered earlier Reader. Who was this being? Shadows cloaked his being as he hung over a sleeping Tom Riddle. He was at a conundrum, you simply cant rip someone from a timeline, Fate would have a hissy fit.

"Then again, that is the entire goal of this project huh?" He laugh to himself just as young Riddle awoken with the being's presence. Adopting a hostile pose, he drew his wand and whispered. "Who are you and what are you doing in my quarters?" The being, still cloaked in shadows, simply laughed and waved away the threat. "Who I am is unimportant. But, you can call me Eros and my Mother and Master sees something in you that could bring a good show." with that, the shadowed being now known as Eros flicked his wrist at the young child who wavered back into the land of Morpheus. Sticking the child's wand to his person, Eros made his decision and enacted what would change the life of both Tom Riddle and many others. "I'll drop you off with your fated enemy, maybe things would be different this time." A dark chuckle left his lips as he waved his hand and Tom Riddle vanished from this world and timeline much like he did with a parting line. "Love is just as evil as it is good. The gods shouldn't be much different. I hope you can agree with me, Reader?"

[Meanwhile]

A brief pulse of energy blinked out of number 10 Privet Drive with the arrival of young Tom Riddle, who's memories and experiences were bound behind the strongest mind blocks. Elsewhere a blood ward shimmered and expired, memories were modified, a Dark Lord was named and two young boys held onto the other as if their life depended on each other. What would become of Tom Riddle? The Chessboard was set, let the game begin.

A/N: I know it might seem confusing and if so please leave me a comment telling such. I wanted to try something new along with an experimental style of loosely transcendent writing style from multiple and asymmetrical points of view/interactions. Tell me what you guys think in general and I hope to pop out another chapter within the coming week. For now, this has been Dox.

Peace!


End file.
